


One Big Whoops

by theimpossibleimpala



Series: Why Can't It Start Here [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Accidental Kissing, Canon Universe, Ficlet, First Kiss, Jimmy Ships It, Jimmy's Dean's conscious, M/M, One Shot, Recreational Drug Use, Story Prompt, You'll see what I mean, in the form of a brownie, season 6
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-17
Updated: 2016-07-17
Packaged: 2018-07-22 17:10:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,256
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7447249
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theimpossibleimpala/pseuds/theimpossibleimpala
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>High off a brownie and dopey from missing Castiel, Dean's lips accidentally press against his fellow angel's and the hunter retreats into hiding before he can see Cas's reaction. </p>
<p>What if he screwed their friendship up? He can't take back the kiss, and even though he could blame the brownie, he knows that would be a lie.</p>
            </blockquote>





	One Big Whoops

 

DEAN IS AN ENTIRE fifteen seconds into the kiss when he realises his mistake.

— _**2**_ _ **0 minutes earlier**_ —

Last night, during a particularly plain one-night-stand, there had been one shining moment that made it different from nearly any other. The woman had offered him a brownie. Like, _a_ brownie. It was innocent and harmless, they'd both already been pretty clear on the consent portion of the night and really they'd barely drank at all before leaving the tavern, so there was no harm in accepting it.  So Dean did, and well, let him tell you, it was blissful.

It was one of the first times during a night like that where the tenseness left his back and shoulders and his headache never  appeared. He let himself fall into the pleasures of the evening and not once did he stress about potentially sleeping with a demon or some monster bitch. It was...refreshing. Relaxing. Awesome.

Which is why this morning he hadn't thought twice about snagging a few more from the fridge and grabbing the half he hadn't finished. 

Dean searches his bag as he slouches back in one of Bobby's dusty ol' armchairs and takes out his half eaten brownie. For a moment he just looks at it, and then he breaks off a piece and bites into it. Sure, it tastes a little weird. But like, good weird. He nibbles at it while sipping water to hopefully help his (wonderfully small) hangover. He's only taken a few bites when a small smile has crept onto his face.

This stuff fucking helps in ways Dean's always wished alcohol would. His mind is mostly clear, it just soothes the pain of his past so he can open his eyes to the future. Not that the future is looking much brighter, what with Sam containing a precarious wall inside his noggen to keep hell out and Cas being strangely evasive as of late. In fact, Castiel hasn't been around for a solid three weeks and Dean was getting slightly worried.

Regardless of the brownie's special powers, Dean's suddenly struck with inconceivable thought. Cas is at war, he could just _die_ and there'd be nobody to tell the Winchesters. None of the other angels give a rats-ass about Sam or Dean and their friendship with Cas. However, if Cas is - ahem - _killed_ they'd find out quickly because that would mean Raphael had won, and would mean the Apocalypse would be put back on the rails. And fucking _hell_ no, that is not allowed to happen. Of course that's why Cas is out fighting in the first place, to stop it, (why hasn't he come to Dean for help?).

Dean crumples up the plastic wrap his brownie had been in and glares at the table, sending an irritated prayer Cas's direction.

"Don't do anything stupid, Cas."

Sam steps into the room and casts Dean a strange look.

"What?"

"Nothing," Sam says, "just...were you talking to yourself?"

"No," Dean grunts.

Sam raises his eyebrows as he takes a seat at Bobby's desk.

"I was only..." The older hunter rolls his eyes, not wanting to make a big deal out of being concerned for his  – _their_ – angel friend.

"Only what?"

Dean sighs, "I'm just worried about Cas, is all."

Sam perks up and leans forward with arms in the table, "He's at war, Dean."

"Yeah, yeah, I know. I've been...thinking though, and –"

Bobby pokes his head in and interrupts, "I hear that you're thinkin' boy?"

"Shut up," Dean mutters and reaches for his glass of... Water. Huh, no whiskey.

Bobby wanders in with a book and sinks into the couch beneath the window. He glances at the brothers expectantly, "Well? Don't let me stop you two suckers from gossipin', by all means," he waves a hand, "go right ahead."

Dean turns back to Sam and goes on, "I mean, don't you think we should see if Cas needs any help with Raphael?"

"Dean," Sam starts, sounding serious, "What Cas is dealing with is hundreds of times more powerful than we are, I mean, those are angels. We've seen what they're like. They're fast and ruthless; they're not afraid to burn our planet. Frankly, I think it's better Cas is dealing with this and not us."

"What? You think it's okay for him to take on those bastards by himself?"

"He's got an army of angels at his side, he's not alone. Besides, think about it," Sam presses, "if we were fighting the angels it would be down on earth and the whole world would be wrecked. We set it spinning again already, it's better we keep the angels in the sky."

"But what about –"

"Dean, your brother's right," Bobby interjects, "Castiel seems like a capable fella, he's awfully sure of himself at least."

"That's my point!" Dean argues with a skowl, "What if he thinks he's got this under control and he doesn't?"

"There's a reason they have wings and we don't," Sam tells him with a regretful tone, "that war is out of our league. They're flying and fighting when we can't even leave the ground."

Dean opens his mouth to bitch back at his family but instead a warm, soothing wave washes through him and he knows the brownies effects are starting up. He shakes his head and after a tense moment of silence asks:

"Who's up for a game of Scrabble?"

Not five minutes later him and Bobby are already six words in while Sam does research on Alpha Monsters and Purgatory. Crowley may be dead, but they still need to know what exactly he'd been up to beforehand. That had been one of the few times Dean's seen Cas as of late; Castiel had found and burned the King of Hell's bones. 

" _Trugs_?" Dean reads incredulously off the board, "That's not a real word."

"Sure it is, it means –"

A swoosh of wind goes over the room and Dean whips his head around to see Castiel.

"It's a shallow basket made from wooden strips for carrying vegetables, flowers, etcetera," Cas explains boredley.

"Cas?"

"Hello, Dean."

Dean grins widely at the unexpected appearance of his friend.

"Cas? It's good to see you, we were just talking about you," Sam says. He begins going on about other Alphas Crowley was going after and how some possess special powers. 

Dean stares at Cas unashamedly, ignoring everyone else. Ha, him and Cas, the greatest love story ever told, right? Angel of the Lord rescuing a self-hating Righteous Man from Hell, the angel rebelling against Heaven in favor of humanity. The angel dying twice for the sake of saving the world. Dean's reminded of his fear Cas could die again, very soon, because of the war he's fighting. Dean's not sure he'd make it through that. In fact, the longer he dwells on it the more he recognises that half this anxiety he's been carrying a round has been solely because he's concerned for Cas's well being. 

When Castiel isn't with him, who knows where he could be. On the battlefield? Thieving weapons, gathering information, organising spies? And all the time Cas has been here lately the focus has been on Sam; on figuring out Sam's soul was gone, getting it back, and now making sure his wall is secure. Dean knows his arguments with Castiel about the soul (how much it could potentially hurt Sam) were unprecedented; Cas only wanted Dean to understand the risks and instead Dean had yelled at him in response. That was dumb. Has Dean apologised? No, no he hasn't.

Cas is talking to Sam and Bobby about the little he knows of Purgatory, his eyes wide and and fingers fumbling humanly at his sleeve. His gaze flashes to Dean occasionally, and Dean's lost in them. Cas pulled his ass out of the fire, for fucks sake, how is he supposed to _not_ fall in love with him? Cas has given everything up for him, and yet Dean's returned so little. How is that fair? 

Bobby stands, bringing Dean back to solid ground, and he walks into the kitchen. Cas begins to follow, and Dean leaps up to put a hand on the angel's arm.

"Cas, are you okay?"

The angel tilts his head, "Of course. I generally am. Why? Does something seem to be wrong with me?"

"No, no, I just haven't seen you for awhile. I, uh, worry." Dean feels like normally he'd be making a hardened expression but instead he's practically _beaming_ at Cas, his hand not moving from where it touches the other man.

Cas squints, and _hell_ , Dean could kiss him. 

"You have no reason to worry about me, Dean," Cas tilts his head the other way, "Are you alright?"

"I'm great," Dean assures with a smile. 

"Good," Cas shifts back slightly and Dean's fingers squeeze Cas's coat more tightly, "then I need to go back to – _mmph...!_ "

Dean kisses Cas because he doesn't want to hear that Castiel has to leave again. He feels like an army husband who's spouse has just returned from battle for Christmas and now has to part with them again. He kisses Cas because he's there and he wants to and _has_ wanted to for a solid two years. Dean's lips push gently and with much insistence and his fingers are suddenly threading in the angel's hair. No fear, no stress, no anxiety. Dean loves Cas. Cas loves him...

Dean is an entire fifteen seconds into the kiss when he realises his mistake.

He's high off a loaded brownie and he just kissed his friend who isn't his kissing back. Dean's eyes and mouth open as he steps back in shock. _What has he done_? He sees Sam in his peripheral vision staring and he's well aware of Bobby having witnessed the entire event as well. Castiel is watching him with...well, Dean can't tell what the expression is. If he had to put a word to it, he would decribe it as panicked. Though, to be perfectly honest, Dean is  _certainly_ the more panicked one. 

Shit.

His hand goes to his hair and his fingers run through it in distress, "Oh shit, Cas." And with that he retreats from the room and flings open the nearest door to escape. 

He stumbles into the basement, a thousand emotions running through his veins and clouding his thoughts. Also the weed brownie in his system is at fault. Shit, _that's_ what did it. He's so mad he could punch something. 

His fist slams onto a wooden table and a dozen sheets of paper puff up off it and to the floor. Dean sighs and falls into a rickety chair, face in palms, rubbing at his eyes. The drugs had helped, really they had, they'd loosened his shoulders and got the deafening, self-hating whispers out of his ears. They'd made him feel better. Better than he had in years, hell, in _decades_. The cost? Potentially his best friend. He'd fucking kissed Cas because he'd felt free enough to do so, and now that he got away from the angel he knows how badly he screwed up.

And even if Cas somehow, ( _impossibly, gloriously_ ) reciprocates his feelings there was no way they could really have anything. Like Sam had said, Castiel is at war and can't spend all his time chasing them around. Cas has a life too – granted, perhaps not the most amazing one – but still. The angel has an entire life in Heaven, far away from the Winchesters. Castiel is a majestic, powerful, ageless, _creature with wings_... And Dean? Dean is human. Painfully, heartbreakingly, human. Forever and always. And even worse? He's a hunter with a fucking mountain of responsibilities on his shoulders. 

Only Cas carries, not a mountain, but the entire earth.

—

Dean sits in the damp darkness for an hour without moving, sipping a dusty glass of water and trying to ride out the last of brownie's effects. At least he's stopped picturing Castiel in an apron baking Dean pies and kissing him while murmuring adorable references into Dean's ear that Cas now understands. Dean's giggled into the empty basement far too many times. God, this mix of blissful happiness and bone-crushing dread and desire is overwhelming and all Dean really wants is to go back upstairs and take a nap. 

The basement door creaks open and a slice of light ignites a portion of the basement floor. He knows it isn't Cas, Cas would've simply flown down here and scared the shit out of Dean, so it's either Bobby or Sam. And based on the sound of the footsteps, it's the latter. 

"Dean? You still down here?"

"Yeah, Sammy," Dean grumbles and attempts to sit up and behave normally. Hopefully he won't burst into tears, he's really not sure how the brownie could make him react to anything involving, well, anything.

Sam gets off the steps and approaches Dean slowly, looking like a moose in headlights.

"I won't bite," the older brother promises gesturing to the seat in front of him, which Sam carefully takes. 

Sam settles down, one arm resting on the table, his fingers curling in and out. He doesn't look directly at Dean, instead glancing at the floor and then at his brother occasionally. Sam's jaw works, and Dean wonders how long him and Bobby spent debating in heated whispers which of them would come talk to Dean.

He can picture it; them two pointing at the basement door and asking _what the hell was that_ , and _do you think he meant it_ , and _did he seem a little high to you_? 

Dean let's out a breathy laugh and Sam's face creeps into a smile as Dean keeps laughing until his body is bent over.

"Oh, Sammy, what did I do?"

"I...I don't know?" Sam furrows his brow, still smiling a tad, "Are you on something, Dean?"

"Brownie," Dean admits. 

Sam cocks his head in understanding, "Where the heck did you get it from?"

"Girl last night."

Sam nods, then clears his throat, "Can I ask you something?"

Dean waves a hand, "Whatever. I'm more inclined to answer now than I will be when this wears off."

"Okay, um, why did you have some of that stuff this morning?"

"Because when I ate it yesterday I felt so much better."

"Better?" Sam leans forward a bit in interest, "Like how?"

"Like, I don't know, better. I don't feel so stressed by everything or so trapped by my...by my past. I feel like I've let some of that shit go and it's like..." Dean meets his brother's gaze, "It's like I can breathe again after being under water for years."

Sam nods, brain clearly processing what Dean's said, "You know, I've read up on this before. This is why so many people stand for medical marijuana. It's legal in some places too; Oregon, Washington, Colorado. It's good for a lot of things, and you know..." Sam gives Dean a weighted look, "I see why it's helped you."

"Has it though?" Dean blurts.

"What do you mean?"

"You... You saw what I did, Sam. I kissed him. I can't take that back."

"And did you mean it? Did you want to even before you were high?"

"I... I...yes," Dean gives in, "yeah."

"Maybe this was a nice little push for you then?"

Dean shakes his head vigorously, "No. God no. Didn't you see him? He wasn't... He wasn't, um, kissing back. That was one-sided. It was stupid. I shouldn't have –" Dean collapses back into his hands, "Goddammit. I fucked up, Sammy."

"Hey, no, no. This is good. Dean, no part of this is bad," Sam puts a firm hand on Dean's shoulder, "This was not a mistake unless you didn't mean it. But hey, you _did_ so this could be...this could mean something good, Dean. Open up to it."

Dean's standing before he has time to think, "Dammit, Sammy!" he shouts, angrier and louder than he meant too, "Don't you get it? I can't have that with Cas, not with any body. I tried with Lisa, for a year, no dice. Hell, I hated that. I was a phony, I was a killer playing house! I can't have people I love, they'll just get hurt," he gestures at his little brother, "You of all people have got to understand! We're hunters, killers, drifters. We don't have families. We don't have love."

"But Dean, this is different!" Sam retorts, standing too and rising up above Dean, "Cas is like us, he knows the life. He's hunter, an angel. He knows our life and he's been part of it for two years. And he will keep being part of it. But maybe you two can be together. Be happy."

"I don't _deserve_ happy!"

"Stop beating yourself up for a second, will you?" Sam shouts, "You know why this'll work Dean? Forget being a hunter – you know why you and Cas will work when you and Lisa didn't?"

"Why?" Dean demands, not believing for a beat that Sam has a real reason.

"Because you were never in love with Lisa, but you _are_ in love with Cas."

The air is vacuumed out of Dean's lungs as he stares up at his brother, a scowl on his face. 

"Shut the fuck up," he growls. And he swears Sam looks scared  before he plows on.

"Dean, listen to me, listen to yourself! I know how you look at him, I saw it long ago. You can lie to me all you want, just don't lie to yourself!"

"Fuck, Sam, dammit," and ah ha! There's the tears. One tear slipping down Dean's cheek and to his chin, " _I know_ I love him, I know so badly it hurts to think about it. I'm not in denial, jesus, I'm just refusing to tell _him_. I can't possibly tell him."

"And why not?" Sam challenges, but his voice has gone soft.

"Because I don't think I could take it if he didn't feel the same way. And I _know_ he doesn't."

"You don't know anything unless you try, Dean."

"I know enough," Dean snaps, turning his back on his brother and facing the stairs up.

"Dean, please –"

"No more, dammit. No more," Dean tells his brother bitterly, starting up the staircase. 

He reaches the top and presses the door open.

—

Bobby's mouth drops open and Dean automatically puts a hand up. 

"Not now, okay? Ask Sam."

And he retreats upstairs to the guest bedroom where he flops onto the bed in a daze. He stares up at the ceiling, the patterns on it twisting a curling into faces and shapes, whispering nonsense at him, until they fade away into darkness and he falls asleep.

—

A familiar face sticks out amongst the crowd at the train station. Dean stares back at the stranger from a distance, glancing between the ticket in his hand and the man across the way. His train departs in 17 minutes. Dean grabs his bag off the ground and stalks over to the strangers bench. 

The person had been blurry before, their features unclear, but now that he's directly in front of them, Dean recognises him as Castiel.

"Cas?"

"Mm, try again," not-Cas says, folding up a newspaper and tapping the seat beside him.

"Um," Dean pauses, "Jimmy?"

"Right, take a seat, Dean. It's been awhile."

"Yeah, man, hi," Dean sits down and turns in intrest to Jimmy. "How you been? I mean... Uh," What do say to dead guy? Was he dead? "You're not still kicking around in Cas, are you?"

"No, no," Jimmy waves a hand, "I've been in Heaven...a year now? Almost two? Time's different up there," he sighs, "but it's nice. Ya know? Imagine your favourite Friday night, or Sunday morning, or Thursday afternoon... That's what Heaven is like. It's peaceful. It's endless."

"I've been there before," Dean mentions, "I died once and took a trip upstairs, I met some friends and saw their Heavens."

Jimmy laughs, "God, what kind of life do you live where you can casually say 'I died once', huh Dean?"

Dean chuckles, "Yeah, I guess your right. I mean, I've lived this life so long..." he puts his elbows on his knees and leans forward. Train station sounds ring throughout the building – whistles, announcers over the intercom, chattering folks on benches, "that all this...crazy I've been through has become so _normalised_ , ya know? I can't imagine life without it. Not really. I went to this alternate universe where magic and monsters didn't exist and I was an actor," Jimmy snorts, "but it was _off_ , the whole thing. What would I do, or be, if I wasn't this? A hunter."

Dean takes a breath and realises how easily he is talking to the stranger, this dead-guy with Castiel's face. And then he realises what's going on here.

"I – this is a dream, isn't it?"

"Yes," Jimmy admits, "I made a...mistake, in Heaven, you see."

"You... You what now?"

"I made a mistake," He glares at the ground then at Dean, "I left my Heaven, I wondered through others, you're not supposed to do that. It's... Frowned upon."

"Um, so what? Why are you here?" Dean demands, and edge in his voice as he finds himself getting upset for no reason.

"I screwed up some things accidentally, tilted some scales, mushed things together that shouldn't have touched. To summarise, I have to pay some penence for what I did. Which, in my case," Jimmy gestures at Dean, "means playing your Jiminy Cricket for awhile."

The hunter frowns, "I'm... Not following."

"Basically, once in awhile I'm gonna pop into your dreams, or maybe into your life, and we're gonna chat about your issues and I'm gonna give you some friendly advice that you should probably take."

"What? Why? Why would Heaven want you do that?"

"Because, Dean, regardless of what you may think about yourself, your soul is powerful and one of a kind. You will always be Michaels vessel and you will always be stronger and brighter than almost any other soul to have ever existed," Jimmy pokes Dean's shoulder, "You need to end up in Heaven, my friend. It's my job to make sure your soul won't get marked up by too many sins that get you sentenced to Hell. I gotta keep you in check. Keep you honest."

"Ha, you're a bit late for that pal. I was destined for the pit the moment I pulled my first trigger, you can't save me. Nobody can."

"I'm not here to save you, Dean," Jimmy runs his hands over his jeans, "I'm here to get you to let other people save you."

"Meaning?"

"You deserve to be happy, and not everything falls on you."

A weight hits Dean's stomach as he hears Jimmy's next words before he even speaks them.

"I'm gonna be with you, okay? Watching you, I won't let you be alone. And see, the thing is, I'll leave you alone and my penence will be served once you let someone else in. When you –"

"Fuck," Dean interrupts, "you mean Cas don't you?"

Jimmy shrugs, then points at the tickets crumpled in Dean's fist, "Your train's here."

And then Jimmy disappears, and Dean jerks awake.

—

The next morning Dean refuses to leave the bedroom. Sam brings up a potential case and Bobby lectures Dean on how he doesn't give a flying fig about Dean being with fellas...and Dean hates them all.

Only, nobody cares what Dean thinks and soon he's being dragged downstairs and is saddled with dinner duty. Which is fine, things could be worse. 

Dean reaches for the bourbon bottle then jumps backwards.

"Jimmy!" Then more quietly, "The fuck you doing here?"

Jimmy Novak cocks his head and leans against the kitchen wall, bourbon bottle in hand. "I told you. I'm your personal Jiminy Cricket. And all I'm saying is, no more drinking. Unless it's for celebratory purposes."

"Dammit, you little –"

"Uh, Dean?"

Dean whips around to see Sam giving him a very strange look. Right. No one else can see or hear Jimmy but him. Awesome.

"You alright? You eat more brownie or something?"

"What? No. I just, I just..." Dean gapes, not sure how to explain the situation. 

"Uh huh," Sam says skeptically, "you good to make dinner?"

"Yeah!" Dean assures him with an overly enthusiastic smile.

"Right, 'kay, well give a shout if anything catches on fire."

"Can do," Dean promises with a thumbs up.

The younger Winchester studies him a moment longer before leaving, at which point Dean spins to face Jimmy again.

"This is going to get old real damn quickly."

"I'm sure, Dean. Now get to cooking. I heard them mention burgers earlier, I think there's meat in the fridge."

"Great," Dean comments as he pulls out the said meat and sets it on the counter, "now your eavesdropping on everybody."

Jimmy raises an eyebrow, "Yeah. And you known what I heard them talk about?"

"No," Dean grunts, washing his hands and ripping open the burger package to begin shaping the meat into patties. 

"Really? Cus I thought it was real interesting. Something about you kissing Castiel."

Dean slams a pattie down onto a plate with extreme force.

"Jimmy, why don't you shut the hell up while I cook, huh?"

"Then I wouldn't be doing my job. So, Dean," the Novak smirks at Dean while hopping up to sit on the counter beside Dean's work, "let's talk about your favourite angel, shall we?"

 

* * *

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Stalk me on tumblr @theimpossibleimpala.
> 
> (If you have any interest taking this fic and making it into your own longer story that's totally awesome and just lemme know.)


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